


(not really) fake dating

by books_and_spite



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bullying, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Fake/Pretend Relationship, First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, One Shot, Request Meme, Self-Esteem Issues, The Author Has Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:42:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27571732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/books_and_spite/pseuds/books_and_spite
Summary: James and Thomas have never met. Not really. But then they’re thrown head-first into fake dating. Oh, and there are feelings involved, too. Just great.
Relationships: Thomas Jefferson/James Madison
Kudos: 29





	(not really) fake dating

**Author's Note:**

> requested by an anon on tumblr: can i get a jeffmads college au, with fake dating and prompt 34 (why are we even doing this)?

James Madison is very much aware that he’s not likeable, thank you, but there are some people who cannot seem to get that through their thick _fucking_ skulls. People apparently think that he has to be reminded, every single day, that he’s a loser. 

Which he is. But _details_. 

He’s getting kind of used to it, to be honest. There are only six months left of high school and he has been dealing with things and he is completely _fine_ , and if he’s not sleeping and drinking too much coffee and being generally unhealthy that’s his problem. Not other people’s.

Alexander and Aaron stay out of his business. 

Which is also fine, and does not at all give him Issues with a capital I.

It really doesn’t. Really.

 _I’m used to this,_ he thinks hysterically as yet another one of the assorted familiar faces corners him. _I will be fine. I_ **_am_ ** _fine_. 

This time it’s George. George Frederick, and oh, look, his little henchman Samuel Seabury. Just his luck. George is an ass at the best of times. At his worst, he can do a lot of bad things to the mental health of someone weak, say, James. And it looks like it’s going to be a bad day.

“Just fucking _wonderful,_ ” he mutters under his breath. 

Yeah, emotional responses are not his thing. Dramatic unsaid monologues are. Quietly screaming into the void in his heart? Sounds about right.

But then George is looking at him like the dirt under his shoe and James shrinks, shrinks back into his tiny frame, and why the _fuck_ did he have to be so small, this is not helping his self-confidence. There’s a crowd gathering, shutting him in, and no one _cares_ , no one _cares_ about him-

George towers over him, hell, Seabury towers over him, and there is a terrible smirk on George’s face. and James is _scared._

“James Madison,” George says, and James just glares at him. George laughs. Which is a fair response. “Really. Stop trying to pretend you’re not scared, Maddy, we all know that’s not true.” 

James keeps his mouth shut. Seabury, flanking George, tilts his chin up tauntingly with a finger. “What’s wrong, Maddy? Cat got your tongue?” He studies James’ face carefully, patting his cheek condescendingly. “Aw. Look, the poor boy is _blushing,_ George.”

“Don’t touch, Sammy,” George scolds. “You might catch _the gay.”_

And that- now, _that’s_ what makes James _angry_ . He wraps his fingers around Seabury’s wrist and twists _hard_ , slamming it downwards and cracking _something_ . Seabury stumbles away and James turns on George, getting up in his face and hissing at him, spitting, “You say that like you’re not fucking sticking your dick in Seabury, you piece of _shit-”_

He’s wrestled back down against the wall by a recovered Seabury. He did not think this through, huh.

George actually looks angry. He’s never really looked angry before. James has fucked up. 

He looks the British royal something-or-other in the eyes defiantly anyway. He’s dug his grave already, might as well lie in it. 

George rakes a burning gaze over James, and smiles eerily widely. “Bad boy, James. You know you’re not supposed to _fight back.”_

_“Fuck you and your motherfucking rules!”_

“Sam, be a dear and shut him up,” George says idly. Seabury moves forward again, and James squeezes his eyes shut-

“Are they bothering you, darlin’?” An unfamiliar voice drawls.

James opens his eyes again. 

And, oh, this is new. George and Seabury have shifted their attention from him to another boy, and Seabury’s grip has slackened. James cranes his head to catch a glimpse of his unexpected saviour.

Hm. He knows _of_ the other student, but doesn’t _know_ him. Everyone knows who Thomas Jefferson is, of course; the genius transfer student from two years ago, popular, rich, kind of an asshole to most people, everything that James will never be. 

That does not explain why he’s standing here, watching George and Seabury with an unimpressed gaze, tilting his head questioningly. Whatever. James will take whatever he can get.

“Not anymore,” he says mildly, and Jefferson laughs out loud. He steps over, avoiding the two Brits like the plague, and offers James a hand. James takes it.

His hand is pleasantly warm, and James smiles; he could get used to this. 

George finally speaks up, his face an unpleasant shade of red. “Jefferson, _fuck off._ ”

Jefferson raises an eyebrow painfully sarcastically, and says pointedly, “Did I not make it clear that you don’t fuck with my business?”

“What business do you have with _him?”_

 _“Friendship?”_ Jefferson asks, sarcasm rolling off his tone.

“You’re fucking him,” Seabury accuses.

Jefferson looks at him like he’s not worth the air he breathes, and sears, “So what if I _am?_ That doesn’t excuse you from treating him like he’s nothing, you little _shit!_ Now get out of my fucking way before I remove you from _the face of this fucking Earth!”_

Either he does not realise the implications of what he said, or he does not care, and James is reeling. His mouth goes dry all of a sudden. All around him, students are stunned into silence. 

“You’re _gay,_ ” George whispers, horror in his voice.

“Fuck yes I am!” Jefferson spits, and grabs George by the collar of his shirt. “And if you even think of one bad thing, Frederick, I will see it returned to you in full.” He drops George and turns back to James. “Let’s go.”

James follows him away silently. There’s really nothing to say.

Jefferson weaves through hallways, heading to the dorms, and pushes the door to one of the better ones open with more force than strictly necessary. James hovers cautiously just inside the doorway, studying the room, as Jefferson slams the door shut, and glances up when Jefferson says, “Hey.”

“Hey,” James says awkwardly.

Jefferson looks at him and curses. “ _Shit._ Shit, come in, please- oh fuck, what have I _done?”_

“My thoughts exactly,” James says before he can control his mouth, then winces and presses a hand over his own mouth as he sits on Jefferson’s bed. “Sorry.”

“I’d say that too, don’t worry,” Jefferson answers distractedly. “If I could control my mouth we would not be in this mess.” He sits down next to James, equally as awkward. 

“So, the whole school thinks we’re fucking, and George Frederick is going to kill me, and oh god, if I’m going to die you had better pay for my funeral,” and that’s as far as James gets before he starts laughing hysterically. 

Jefferson starts and tries to pat him on the shoulder, but James twitches and he snatches his hand back like he’s touched a fire. Maybe he has, James thinks.

“I’m really sorry?” He tries instead. “But I have no fucking idea what to do and if we just say we’re not dating it will be a mess.”

James’ laughter trails off. “Then we could just not,” he suggests seriously, eyeing Jefferson. “Go ahead. I can be your fake boyfriend.” He spreads his hands. “I don’t care what people think as long as they don’t harass me.”

This is, perhaps, peak idiocy. James really can’t find it in himself to care. 

Jefferson is looking at him like something in his brain isn’t quite working right. “I’m sorry. _What?”_

“Fake dating,” James says mildly. 

“That… could work,” Jefferson decides. There’s a strange note in his voice. James is probably better off not knowing. “What would we have to do, then?”

James shrugs, feeling his face heat, oh, just _great._ “I wouldn’t know. Not many people are willing to date a sickly, nerd, gay boy.” Oh, and that leads into something else he wanted to ask. “You’re gay. As in, you, this school’s most popular, arrogant student. And you’re being _nice_ to me.” He can feel the hysterical laughter coming back. “What is my life?”

Jefferson looks uncomfortable. “For the record. I am, in fact, gay.” 

“Okay. _Okay,”_ James murmurs. “Doesn’t answer the question. What are you and I going to _do?”_

“Relationships are complicated,” Jefferson says thoughtfully. “Maybe spend more time together.” He grimaces. “Public displays of affection will be expected.”

James winces. “No offense, Jefferson- wait, do you even know my name?- but I am not looking forward to that. And I draw the line at kissing.” Physical contact is weird, for him. He doesn’t hug people, bar his friends Alexander and Aaron. Doesn’t kiss people. He’s never been interested in the physical aspect of things when it comes to relationships. 

Jefferson sighs quietly. “Neither am I. I’m fine with the kissing thing. And I do know your name. James Madison, wasn’t it?”

James tilts his head. That was unexpected. “You know who I am. That’s more than most people in this school can say.” There’s a smile creeping onto his face; he lets it stay. “I think we’re going to be just fine. I can display affection to someone who actually cares.”

Jefferson grins, and it’s a nice grin, and James could really get used to this. “Good to hear. And if we’re going to be fake boyfriends, you should probably call me Thomas.”

“Call me James, I guess,” James tells him. “ _Thomas_.”

It sounds… not particularly unpleasant. Thomas. A fake boyfriend. An acquaintance. Maybe, one day, a friend.

Thomas clears his throat awkwardly. “So. About the kissing thing. I figured that you probably wouldn’t want the _first_ kiss to be fake, so-” He gestures. “Oh, fuck, this sounds weird, but I could kiss you, like, now.”

James considers, then shrugs, mutters, “Sure.” Thomas leans down and kisses him once, on the lips, just a light one, and his touch isn’t intrusive, and his smile afterwards is almost _shy._

He’s _nice,_ James realizes. A lot of what he thought about Thomas Jefferson was completely fucking _wrong._

Yeah, James could definitely get used to this. 

\---

It turns out that he cannot, in fact, get used to it. 

Affection is strange, to him. He isn’t used to it. He’s never gotten the _chance_ to be. So Thomas’ open warmth, the way he speaks with his touches and his smiles and his looks and not just his words, is a stranger to him. 

Thomas walks him back to his dorm, because “I don’t want you to be threatened again”, and James covers his mouth so that Thomas won’t see his gasp, and Thomas treats him like he’s a good person who is deserving of being treated well and it’s different. Very different.

Thomas finds his way inside James’ circle of friends, without even trying.

Fake dating isn’t meant to be like this. It isn’t meant to be so sweet and so caring and so good for him. It isn’t meant to be two people who really _do_ fit together. Because they do. 

Thomas smiles at him when they see each other, between classes, and in the Calculus class they share (how did James not notice that?). Thomas takes his time away from his loneliness, away from Alexander and Aaron, and James is fine with it. Surprisingly so. 

Wow. He has a life now.

A life that isn’t just homework and stressing and deep-seated hurt and a life that isn’t just his friends who’re dating anyway, who make him the third wheel. He is attached to Alexander and Aaron, he really is, but he can’t help but feel… left out.

Well, apparently Thomas has no other friends either. 

That’s good for him. Oh, god, he sounds like an insecure dick. 

He _is_ an insecure dick. 

But Thomas _cares,_ really and truly and earnestly, and James just wants to wrap himself in that care like a security blanket and never come out again. No one bullies him, anymore; all too scared of Thomas’ influence around the school. 

The only thing strange about the whole affair is the displays of _affection._ Sure, touch is weird to him, but that, at least, he knows. 

It’s when Thomas moves closer and presses harder and breathes hot over his lips that he really does not enjoy. It’s not normal. But James has never had a boyfriend and he’s never gotten the chance to experience this _revulsion_ before. 

Two months of fake dating and he still can’t help but flinch away whenever Thomas has to kiss him like _that._

He tells Thomas, one day, when they’re both sprawled over Thomas’ bed (another thing that’s happened). “Yeah. About kissing? Or at least… non-surface kissing? That’s not happening.” He cringes. “Sorry. It just-” He waves his hands helplessly. “I am _very_ uncomfortable with the idea of anything sexual in nature, in general.”

He’s fucking this up, isn’t he. 

“We’re not dating,” Thomas dismisses. “It’s fine. You don’t have to.” He eyes James oddly. “James. Have you, by any chance, looked into asexuality?”

James raises an eyebrow, sitting up from where he was originally lying on the sheets. “What’s that?”

Thomas taps something into his phone and presses it into James’ hand, brushing his fingers along James’ palm affectionately. 

_Asexuality,_ James reads from the featured Wikipedia article. _Asexuality is the lack of sexual attraction to others, or low or absent interest in or desire for sexual activity._

That… sounds familiar. 

Huh. 

_“Huh,”_ he says aloud. 

Thomas grins. “Helped?”

“...Yeah,” James decides. And then he says, “Thank you,” and suddenly words are falling out and he just can’t stop talking. “ _Why?_ Why do you like me? **Why are we even doing this?”**

Thomas frowns. “What?”

“You- you could’ve done so much better,” James tells him, fidgeting and tapping his fingers on the bed. “But you chose to stick up for me, and do this for me. You didn’t need to fake date me. I’d have been hurt more, and you are such a _good_ person, you don’t _need_ me. But-” He breaks off. “You’ve done all this. You _care_.”

Thomas’ frown only grows wider, more confused. “Of course I care. You’re my friend.”

_“Why?”_

“Because I like you,” Thomas says, and smiles like he hasn’t just had the audacity to uproot the foundation of James’ world, that no one will ever really like him. “You’re nice. You are a good person. You’re refreshing company. You can talk and debate and you’re whip-smart and you are _everything I wanted to be.”_

James laughs, half-incredulously, half-almost hysterically. “Me? You wanted to be _me?_ ”

Because why would Thomas Jefferson, not just an asshole after all, this genuinely good and kind and loving person, who has everything anyone could ever want, want to be him?

James is angry. Angry at life. He’s tiny and can’t control his mouth and has far too many opinions on everything. The world hates him. _He_ hates him. Why the fuck would anyone want to be him? Let alone Thomas?

But Thomas is looking at him like his heart is breaking for James, and he reaches out to cup James’ face, tilting it upwards. Close enough to kiss Thomas. James doesn’t move. “Listen to me, James Madison. I have known you for two months but you are a delight to be around and you are amazing and _anyone_ would want to be you.” His voice is sincere, and suddenly- James can’t breathe, he can’t think, all there is in his world is Thomas, earnest and giving and James _hugs_ him.

Thomas looks surprised when James practically falls into his arms, but he doesn’t question it. Just pulls James closer. 

“I will be here for you, Jemmy,” he murmurs. “I promise that.”

And James just moves closer, and breathes in the smell of Thomas, of safety and warmth and home, and that’s when he realizes-

Oh, _fuck,_ he’s in love with Thomas Jefferson. 

\---

James doesn’t say anything, of course. 

Because he’s not going to ruin this- whatever they have going on, he’s not just going to do that, he can’t. It’s like how you can’t say goodbye. James can’t say goodbye to this friendship. 

But he can’t go on like this, either. 

In the end it takes him two weeks before he caves, before he goes to his only other friends for help. 

Alexander and Aaron’s dorm door flies open as soon as he knocks, Aaron standing behind it with a tired smile on his face. “James. It’s been a while, hm?”

James slides past Aaron into the room. “I’m sorry. It’s just that shit happens.”

“Yeah, shit like you dating Jefferson- since when did that happen, by the way?” Alexander interjects from his position on the bed, is he upside down?

James elects to ignore that when he sinks onto Aaron’s bed. “I- can I tell you something?”

Aaron sits down next to him. “Of course you can.”

“We’re not actually dating, it was just a spur-of-the-moment thing but now I think I like him and he’s been so nice to me and I want to die,” James blurts out. 

Aaron looks at him oddly. Alexander flips himself back upright to gape.

“You weren’t actually dating? Did you even know him before the-” Alexander flaps his hands madly. “- _incident?_ ”

“No,” James says miserably. “It’s just that he _cares_ and why am I so _weird_ about this?”

Aaron reaches out warily and places a hand on his shoulder. “Hey. It’s okay. Just talk to him. Thomas is a decent person, and he seems to like you. A lot. Heaven knows he’s never looked at anyone else like _that_ before.”

“No one even suspected you weren’t dating ‘cause you were looking at each other that way,” Alexander offers. “He looks at you like you hung the fucking stars, James.”

“...He _what?”_ James asks faintly. 

Aaron shoots a warning look at Alexander, opening his mouth to answer, and Alexander pouts. Aaron takes over smoothly. “James. That boy loves you. Or at least cares.” He gives James a reassuring pat on his back. “Just talk to him, for _yourself_. Okay?”

Alexander rearranges his face into a serious mask. “It won’t go wrong. I promise.”

“Thanks,” James says quietly. There’s nothing else to say. 

He still doesn’t know if he can do this- he’s going to fuck it up, he can feel it- but he’ll be damned if he isn’t going to _try_. 

\---

Trying is a lot harder than it sounds. There never seems to be the right time to do it, Thomas is always distracted or busy or James just can’t force it out, and that really fucking _sucks_. 

But then there’s one day when they’re sitting in Thomas’ room, just like _that_ day, the day James realized he loved Thomas, and they’re just sitting together, shoulder to shoulder. James is reading, and he makes a little gasp at one of the plot twists, and Thomas twists his head to look at James-

James looks up to tell him at the exact same moment and they’re staring at each other, barely an inch between their faces, and James decides, _fuck it_.

He presses his lips to Thomas’, lightly, and god, he doesn’t know how to do this. But Thomas is taking his hands and kissing back gently and he does not feel uncomfortable with this. He feels good. _Good._

Fucking hell, since when was James _this_ far gone?

It’s nothing but a brush of lips, their kiss, their real first kiss, not for pretend, just for _them._ But it’s a good kiss, and James is feeling _everything,_ the way they meld together like they’re one person, the taste of Thomas, cinnamon and chocolate and _home_ , Thomas’ warm hands on his. Everything.

He hasn’t fucked it up after all.

He counts his heartbeats, once, twice, three times, and then Thomas is breaking away and pulling him closer, and he’s in Thomas’ arms again. Just like before. 

“I think I’m in love with you,” he blurts out, letting the words escape him, and Thomas laughs, loud and bright. 

“I think I’ve been in love with you for a pretty long time,” Thomas admits, and lets his head fall on James’ shoulder. James snuggles closer. To Thomas. To his _boyfriend_. 

_I’m gonna be okay,_ he thinks _. Both of us. We’re gonna be okay._

Because Thomas and James are together, now, and it may sound clichéd but as long as they’re together? James thinks they’ll be fine. 

Everything’s going to be just fine.

**Author's Note:**

> this is actually the longest chapter i have ever written and i wrote it in two days


End file.
